


Hit the Lights

by aidail



Series: My Apocalypse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Eros and Psyche, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, What Was I Thinking?, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9388853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidail/pseuds/aidail
Summary: Eros and Psyche myth with Gabriel and Sam.When a careless priest compares Sam to Lucifer, the god becomes jealous and curses Sam to only fall in love with monsters. Enter Gabriel, god of love, sent to play matchmaker, but who falls for the mortal himself instead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Liberties heavily taken. No resemblance to actual greek culture is even attempted. I apologise in advance.

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago…or so it goes, there lived two young boys. There was nothing particularly special about these two boys. They were not the offspring of gods, or dryads, or any of the many strange creatures that lived in their world. They were simply, completely and totally human.

The two boys grew, as young boys are wont to do, and as they did they grew equally in strength and beauty. Though it was often said that the elder of the two was the more beautiful, it was the younger who drew the unfortunate attention of the local priest. It was in his eighteenth year when a priest of Lucifer made the unfortunate comparison between his god and the young man, declaring the young human even greater in grace and beauty than his own patron. 

This, as everyone knows, is a terrible thing to do. Through no fault of his own, except perhaps what fault can be attributed to one for being young and attractive and enhancing these natural gifts through such things as exercise and a penchant for healthy foods, this young man attracted the ire of a God. For the gods are fickle things, and rather than directing his anger at the disciple who made the unfortunate comparison, he instead chose to direct his displeasure towards that hapless mortal who had inspired the priest’s ardor. 

Sam, as this young man was known, was not at first aware of this unfortunate circumstance. He was not to learn of it for several years, when he began to court a young woman by the name of Jessica. She was clever and fair and, in the words of his brother, Dean, perfect in every way except for the incurable mental affliction which caused her to prefer Sam over any other. However, their union was not to be. Mere days before he had planned his proposal, she was killed in a fire, leaving Sam heartbroken, and wondering if he had done something to incur the wrath of the fates. 

It was barely a year later before his suspicions were truly raised. After all, while unfortunate, a single event could be attributed to natural causes. However, when Sam’s next attempt at courting concluded in the discovery of a monster living in their village and with a far more violent end to their courtship than is generally desired, he began to truly suspect he might be cursed.

It took one final disaster to have him convinced, but even Sam could no longer call it bad luck when his latest paramour turned out to be a sorceress who attempted to trick him into raising monsters from the very pit of Tartarus itself. Sam finally realised he was cursed in love and was determined to find out why. 

Luckily for Sam, oracles and priests were rather better informed in those days than our current sad times, and it didn’t take him long to find an answer. Lucifer had cursed him to only ever find love in monstrous forms. Despair filled him at this news, but he knew better than to argue with a god. He thanked the priests respectfully, as was only polite, and returned home, resignation added to the weight of despair he already carried. 

It was unfortunate for Sam that it had been that same priest from years before whose temple he had visited to receive answers. It was even more unfortunate that in the intervening years, Sam’s beauty had only increased, while the priest’s idiocy seemed only to have grown, for he once again repeated his previous opinion, favorably comparing the young man to the god he served so unfaithfully. 

If not for the priest’s ignorant adherence to his opinion, that might have been the end of it. For even the god was not above being moved by the young man’s despair, and his polite manners. But to once again hear the opinion, which had first so enraged him, uttered a second time reignited his wrath. He immediately called once more for his brother, Gabriel. 

Gabriel came unwillingly enough. For as a god himself, he knew surely what his brother would ask of him again. It was he who sent forth the golden arrows, striking the young man and condemning him to love that which was monstrous. It was not a task he relished. He had no ill will towards the unlucky mortal who had drawn his brother’s ire, and did not enjoy the tasks he had set him. 

In fact, on his first attempt, he had been so moved by pity that he had intentionally mistimed his shot, instead gifting the mortal a suitable match. However, his brother had discovered his deception and rectified the situation. It was then that the god of love had discovered that he did not enjoy having the deaths of innocents on his conscience, and had not tried again to foil his brother in his petty vendetta. 

As expected, Lucifer once again compelled Gabriel to use his powers to bind the mortal to a suitably monstrous being. It was with heavy wings that Gabriel made his way once more into the mortal’s bedchamber. He could not refuse his brother’s command for fear of retribution, but it pained him to do this task. As the god of love, he found no joy in bringing sorrow. Even his arrows seemed to grow heavy in his hand as he brought them forth to prick the sleeping man. 

As he stood, caught in melancholic contemplation, a noise startled him, almost causing him to prick his own hand with the golden tip. The noise also roused the slumbering mortal, enough for him to turn his face upwards towards the god. Not for the first time, Gabriel could not help but agree with the priest who had caused this mess in the first place with his incautious words. Sam was beautiful enough to tempt even a god. And that was when the god came up with his best trick yet. For who more monstrous than he for the boy to fall for? Certainly more fitting than the maid he had intended, the one who was secretly an empuse in disguise. 

Task complete, in the strictest sense of his word, Gabriel retired as Sam woke to be accosted by his brother who demanded an explanation. Sam had been too overcome with melancholy to face his brother with the news of his curse. He knew his brother would be incensed and he was right.

Unlike Sam, who had always had a measure of faith, even respect for the gods, Dean was regularly blasphemous and irreverent and this occasion proved no different. He railed against Lucifer’s curse, raging against the unfair god. 

It did not take long before he was interrupted by a booming voice that mocked and snarled, curling with an unseen sneer. It informed the brothers in no uncertain terms that Lucifer’s curse was very much still in effect and would remain so. In fact the next monster would level the kingdom if Sam did not consent to leave immediately to meet it. 

The brothers were brave, able warriors and steadfast in the face of danger. But even they quailed slightly at the voice. Even so, silence had barely descended before their argument began. Sam was ready to walk out the door that moment, to spare his friends and family. Dean was equally determined to keep his brother safe. But after too much time spent on angry words, in the end, the younger brother won out, as was inevitable. 

And so brave Sam packed a bag, said swift farewells to his friends and family, a more lengthy good bye to his brother, and set off for the hills as instructed. There, after many hours of walking, he came upon the hill that bore a striking resemblance to a bear, and there he waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

Finally, the warm sun and soft grass made him drowsy. After a restless night his eyes were drooping and he finally succumb to sleep, still grumbling about monsters and their abysmal lack of punctuality. 

When he awoke, the sun was setting and he was no longer outside on the hill. He was now in a magnificent dining hall, larger than anything he had ever seen. Before him, an enormous table, large enough to hold at least a hundred was set for only one. Sam moved cautiously towards it, and was only a little startled to find that his clothes had been changed to ones far more luxurious, and that the chair was moved out in anticipation as he got closer. 

It seemed he had left his disbelief behind him on that hill, for nothing about the evening surprised him. Not the invisible servant who waited on him, not the food that appeared to his liking as soon as he thought of it, or the cup that refilled itself. Perhaps that fact was enough to explain Sam’s strange behavior, for he had grabbed that cup first of all, intending to drain it dry before realizing that was impossible. Nor was the wine watered as he was used to. In short, Sam was rather inebriated before the meal had even started and as soon as he noticed the fact, he resolved to remain so for as long as possible. 

Night descended as the meal ended, plunging the room into inky darkness. Sam was still nursing his cup, reluctant to let it go, even as invisible hands plucked it fingers. Those same hands gently gathered him up, lifting him to his feet and supporting his rather unsteady steps through the darkness. 

There were no candles lit, not even starlight peeking through the windows to illuminate his path. Yet Sam was not surprised when he found himself dropped unceremoniously upon something soft that felt suspiciously like a bed. He gave no resistance as those invisible hands slipped under the hem of his tunic, dragging it over his head, nor when those nimble fingers started tugging at his belt and boots. He knew the bargain he had struck. 

In fact, it wasn’t until he felt a blanket pulled over his vulnerable flesh and a pillow tucked under his head that he allowed himself to feel anything at all through the numb haze he had hidden behind. But when he tried to form words out of his fuzzy thoughts, he was shushed gently by the same disembodied voice, though much quieter now, and no longer disembodied. For that was definitely the weight of something pressed against his side, and the breath from that same something ghosting over his face. 

In the end, comfort and wine won out. Sam was too exhausted to fight the pull of sleep, and as nothing seemed to be required of him this night, he sunk gratefully into sleeps sweet embrace. 

When he awoke, sunlight was streaming in from high windows, and there was nothing to betray the presence of another being in his bed. For the briefest moment, Sam attempted to puzzle out why he was able to see the sky through those windows now in the daylight, but not the night before. It took him only a moment to discount it as just another magical aspect of his new home. 

He found food waiting for him when he found his way back to the large dining hall. Further exploration throughout the day uncovered a library larger than any he had ever seen, more books than he could ever hope to read in a lifetime. Another room held a gallery of paintings, and yet another a row of weapons. When nothing forbade his movements, he took down a sword hat was weighted to his liking and practiced, aware more than ever of the importance of maintaining his skills. The afternoon he spent quietly reading. Whenever he grew hungry, he wandered back to the dining hall to find a meal waiting for him. 

In this way he whiled away the hours. He made no attempt to escape, or even set foot outside of the castle. Sam was very clever and knew that a prison did not need chains or bars to make it so. He contended himself with the amusements that were provided, until darkness fell. 

As the castle fell to shadows, the being reappeared, as much as anything can be said to appear in blinding darkness. This time though, the being spoke, enquiring after his health and happiness. The last drew a soft bark of laughter, but further pressing had Sam speaking for the first time all day. More than he’d intended, the hours whittled away by amusing conversation with his captor until he was yawning as much as speaking and those gentle hands prompted him back towards the bedroom.

In full possession of his faculties this time, Sam knew enough to be wary, but the ritual of the night before repeated itself. He was undressed only enough to be comfortable for sleep before blankets and pillows were pressed against him, only then followed by the now familiar weight of his companion. And once again, Sam proved that he was more than just a pretty face by not questioning that which he had no desire to change. 

In this manner the weeks flew by. Sam found himself alone each morning and through the day, left to his own devices. He had gained permission to wander the grounds and often spent the days lying in the sunshine. Only as darkness fully descended and he was left blind and groping in the dark did those gentle hands reach for him, steadying him easily, and that teasing voice fill his head. Sam slowly found himself anticipating his evenings, enjoying the playful banter, rising to the challenge in that mocking tone. 

They spoke of many things, of books and laws, of gods and monsters and men. Sam gave tiny pieces of himself, childhood memories, stories he liked, offerings to the rapacious monster who was never satisfied, always wanting to know more, more about Sam, to familiarize himself with every nook and cranny of Sam’s heart and soul. And slowly, Sam found himself giving over those very things. 

In return, he received stories and laughter. He was left to imagine the smiles that must accompany that laughter, and the eyes that must crinkle in amusement. For he never saw his companion, was never allowed to touch him. Sam knew only that his hands were soft and human, and lately, unbidden, he was left to wonder what other features might be human and whether he would ever be able to find out. 

Sam was aware that whatever manner of creature held him was not human. If the castle’s magic itself was not enough, there was a strange rustling that accompanied his movements, senses Sam could not define giving him an impression of shifting limbs and size far greater than an ordinary man. But less and less did that concern Sam. He knew he was cursed to love a monster. And lately, as soft chuckles and gentle teasing sent curls of heat licking over his skin, he was less inclined to fight his fate. 

But still their nightly ritual went unchanged. Sam never slept alone, but he was always left in peace, only a warm weight through the blankets betraying another presence in his bed. 

That changed after almost three months. The days had been getting shorter, night coming earlier. Sam found himself thankful for the waning of the year, giving him more time with his nightly companion. It was a bitterly cold night and Sam knew the first snow of the year would fall that night. He could smell it in the air. 

Each morning Sam found new clothes laid out for him, smelling fresh and clean and perfectly fitted for his frame. But even the sumptuous clothes couldn’t keep out the chill. As the temperature plummeted with the sun, and with no fire to keep warm, Sam retired to his bed before the light was gone, seeking the extra warmth the blankets would provide. 

When his companion joined him, Sam didn’t waste his opportunity. Hands came close in the dark to check on his health, the being clearly surprised to find him already in bed and he snagged one hand, pulling him off balance. Sam knew surprise was his only advantage and he used his instincts, honed after spending months in the dark to unerringly tangle his free hand into what felt like soft curls and used the leverage to pull a thankfully human face close to his own. Then there were lips against his and Sam sighed in relief as he finally got some of the contact he craved. 

Husky laughter filled his senses, and then there were hands pulling the blankets away from his body and he shivered in protest before an even warmer body replaced them. It felt like a human body, though smaller than his own, and he was thankful for that too. Though he was more than aware that many monsters could change their skins, that thought was lost as his companion did his very best to distract Sam from his thoughts with tongue and teeth. Sam was more than willing to let himself be distracted. 

Hours later, curled together in the dark, Sam was still awake. It occurred to him then that he didn’t even know the name of his bedmate. Nor was he completely satisfied. While he could not deny the pleasure their evening had brought, he had still been forbidden to touch. It left him feeling unsettled, coming apart in the dark, denied any knowledge of his lover beyond the touches on his skin. And still that strange niggling sense that there were more that he couldn’t see, that ever present rustling reminding him that what was pressed against him was not human flesh. 

It became a part of their routine. Each night Sam was left gasping and blissed out, but unfulfilled, mulling it over in the dark. Eventually he started to push, to try and reach out, to question the rules he’d been accepting of in the beginning. At first he’d been hesitant to upset the monster in the dark lest he find himself as the next meal served on the table. But that was unlikely now, if his contended purrs were anything to judge by. 

So Sam pushed, seeking a name, seeking to touch, anything he could get. Finally, he pushed too far. There was a night his companion did not appear. It didn’t last long. In the end they reached a compromise. Not the sort that brought Sam any satisfaction, but he could not deny he was grateful all the same. He was allowed to see his brother. 

It had been long months without his family, spending most of his time alone. Sam was overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Dean. But he still chafed at the rules. And if the being knew him as well as he should have he would have known Dean was the last thing he should introduce into that mix. For no sooner had Dean strode into the castle, brought courtesy of the west wind, than he was running to his brother asking after the ‘monster of the castle’. 

Dean’s enquiries awoke every one of Sam’s concerns and fears, and while the brothers enjoyed their time together, pleased beyond measure so see one another, they shared fewer and fewer contended looks, exchanges becoming darker and darker with suspicion. Sam tried valiantly to resist, to defend his lover from his brother’s suspicions. But how could he, when they were nothing more than an echo of his own?

As darkness came, so did the wind, but Dean pulled Sam into one last hug and as he did he slipped a small candle and some matches into Sam’s pockets. Sam was careful not to react, but he met his brother’s gaze and nodded once, a subtle shift, but enough. The brothers had always been able to say so much with just a look. 

That night, so late, even the being by his side was fast asleep, Sam reached with shaking hands for his clothes, left rumpled on the floor and pulled out his candle and matches, desperately try to strike a flame without alerting his companion. Finally the wick caught. Sam was almost afraid to look. Dean had filled his head with all sorts of terrible images, scaly beasts and deformed monsters. But when Sam looked at the being beside him, he saw the most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his life. 

His hair was golden in the candlelight, skin smooth and creamy. Broad shoulders with a narrow waist, but soft in all the right places, and Sam’s fingers itched to touch. But what Sam was really focused on was the source of the rustling, the thing he’s sensed but never been able to make sense of. Two enormous golden wings were tucked in against his back; feathers rucked up against the sheets, carefully pulled away from where his body was nestled against Sam. 

So enthralled was he, that he stared too long. Sam managed to tear his eyes away from the shimmering golden appendages in time to see equally golden eyes slide open and fix on his own sadly. Sam didn’t try to apologise or protest. He knew now who it was that had slept by his side those past months, just as he knew what he had done. For love is blind, but Sam had chosen to see, chose fear and jealousy over the love he held so dear. And between one breath and the next that love was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

It took only a few days for Sam to abandon hope that Gabriel would return. Food no longer appeared on the table, wine no longer filled the cup, and for the first time since his arrival, Sam saw moonlight painted across the floors as the sun set. Nights were bitterly cold without the god by his side. He had no clothes save the ones from the floor that night, and no water for washing or bathing. In the end, Sam was forced to abandon the castle that had started to feel like home. 

In the wilderness he wandered. Even in winter he had enough skill to survive, and as he wandered, he knew he was searching. Not for Gabriel, for he knew the god would not be found unless he wished it, but for a way back to the past, a way to tell himself not to light the candle, to simply trust in the love he had in his heart. Without trust there can be no love, and Sam had broken his. Like Pandora, he had not been content with the peace of his world, and through his curiosity had brought himself nothing but pain.

But for all the magic in the land, there was no undoing deeds done. So Sam wandered. Eventually, after a particularly cold day with heavy snow, Sam took shelter in a temple. Once inside, he sought the alter to pay his respects, as any sane mortal would do in a god’s house. But Sam could find no alter, nor any sign of even whose temple it was. The room was in disarray, the sacred items knocked about and damaged. 

With a deep breath, Sam knelt and got to work. He tidied the room, finding a small room at the back with tools for cleaning. The labor warmed him, and before he knew it, his work was done, and everything restored to its rightful place. It was only then he realised whose temple it was: Castiel, lord of the underworld. 

Sam shivered as a rush of cold air brushed over him, and he spun instinctively, already suspecting what he would find. There stood the god, in all his somber glory. Expression curiously blank, wings spread like shadows behind him. Sam knelt in supplication, but the god simply looked to the temple around him, nodding approvingly at the order. Only once he had determined everything was to his satisfaction did the god turn on the hapless mortal.

It had been a long time since his temples were kept orderly. While the lord of the dead was not one to annoy, there was not much to be gained from his favor either. After all, his domain was over the dead, and all men must die, sooner or later. You could not barter or wager with Death, he could not be swayed from his judgment by worship. So his temples were neglected, and none paid homage to him. It pleased him beyond measure that this mortal would pay him that respect. 

So pleased was he that he was even willing to grant the mortal a boon, something hard won from the lord of the dead, possible only because Sam hadn’t been seeking one. It wasn’t until the mortal enquired after his brother, Gabriel, that Castiel realised who the young man must be. Gabriel had already complained to him at length about this unfortunate human. So Castiel was doubly pleased that he had the opportunity to potentially end both his brothers suffering and his complaining. 

Castiel couldn’t interfere directly on the mortal’s behalf without crossing his brother. There was only one being who could fix this mess and it was the same one who had started it. So Castiel sent Sam on a quest. He directed Sam back to the very same temple where Lucifer’s priest had been so insulting and suggested he take up his problem with the god directly. 

Sam took Castiel’s advice. It was always best to listen to a god, especially the god of death, when they gave you advice, if only so they didn’t take offense. It had the added advantage of allowing him to see his family again. It had taken him many days, but Sam had finally forgiven Dean for encouraging his curiosity. He knew his brother only had his safety at heart, and it was Sam’s own curiosity that had got him into trouble. So he was prepared to finally meet his brother without recriminations. It was, after all, Sam’s fault for lighting the candle, even if Dean handed him the matches. 

So Sam returned to an overjoyed family and was reunited again with his brother. But when he explained his quest, his brother argued with him, claiming his freedom a gift. However, Sam did not feel free. Once again, he’d discovered that a prison did not need chains or bars, or even walls. Though he could go where he willed and do what he wished, he was not free. It took many bitter words, but finally Dean could only nod sadly in agreement with his brother. For Sam’s happiness came first for Dean, even above all other things. 

Together they sought the temple, together, they called upon Lucifer. But it was Sam who agreed to the deal: Four challenges to complete before the curse could be lifted, four challenges for Sam to prove himself worthy to love a god. Only then would Lucifer consent to help Sam win back his love. And Sam gladly accepted. 

But we all know how these tales go. Our brave hero agreed to perform dangerous tasks for the chance to win his love. So naturally our villain intended to cheat. The first task he set was not so much a task as a punishment. Sam was chained to the floor, and beaten, for Lucifer did not believe Sam had ever known suffering. Sam took his blows in silence, refusing to cry out, feeling it was no more than he deserved. 

Finally forced to relent, unsatisfied by Sam’s stoicism, Lucifer left with the warning that more tasks would come. He left Sam bleeding and bruised by a riverbank in petty revenge. Unknown to Lucifer, a girl was watching from the water. Charlie was a softhearted naiad who did not like to see others suffer. Moved to tears and pity, she crept slowly closer to the bleeding form. 

Hesitantly she reached out to touch him gently and darted backwards when he flinched in response. But when he did no more than watch her, she moved back again, reaching out to run soft fingers through his hair, so much darker than her own shining red. Cautiously she drew him forward into the embrace of her river, washing away dirt and blood, easing his wounds and healing him.

Finally, when he was able to stand, Sam thanked the young river spirit. He stayed with her a short time, both taking delight in the other’s company. When Sam finally departed back for his home, he had a new friend. 

Days became weeks as Sam waited for the next challenge. He did he best to hide his melancholy mood, taking pains to act normally around his brother, visiting his new friend and reconnecting with old ones. He brought the naiad many pretty offerings to thank her for her help.

It was lucky that he did. For when Lucifer next appeared he cast a handful of grain at Sam’s feet and demanded that he produce enough food to feed a village by sunset. Then laughing to himself he disappeared, convinced there was no way Sam could complete his task. 

Sam at first shared his opinion. He looked at the handful of grain in despair. It was barely enough for a handful of flour, not enough to feed a family, let alone a village. But as he sat and thought, a spark of an idea struck him, and he hastily gathered his precious handful of grain, running for the river. 

As Sam explained his idea to the river nymph she smiled up at him and agreed enthusiastically. By now, the whole pantheon was alight with gossip about Lucifer and the young man he was tormenting. Everyone had heard the rumours that the god of love had locked himself in his golden palace and was refusing to see anyone. More than one gossip had wondered if the two were related, and Charlie giggled to herself, knowing the truth. She was more than happy to help Sam win his love, and more importantly, spite Lucifer. He was not a popular god, proud and cruel, and there were many who would like to see him suitably humbled.

So together they worked. Charlie called some of her sisters to help, and Sam called his brother. Together they toiled and worked, the deities spreading their magic. As the sun began to set, they departed, leaving Sam to admire their handiwork. 

Lucifer appeared in a good mood, fresh from a party he was holding in celebration, smelling of drink and prepared to declare the mortal’s failure. But when he arrived, he found piles of wheat and barley, more than enough to feed a village for a week, the product of a long days labour in growing and harvesting the grains he had left Sam. Lucifer was enraged at the trick, but he could not deny Sam had achieved his task. These were the offspring of the grains he had given, his magic could tell that much, and it was Lucifer’s own carelessness about the rules that allowed him to be tricked. 

Lucifer left again in a towering rage, but not before setting alight to the grain pile. Sam and Charlie tried in vain to smother the flames, but they could not prevent the ash that polluted her river, or the heat that boiled her waters. Badly injured, Charlie was forced to return to her waters, leaving Sam to stammer apologies. She smiled at him sadly. Unlike some deities, she knew to blame the one actually responsible. So she let him go with kind words. But Sam knew better than to involve her again. 

So it was with an even heavier heart that Sam returned to his family again. For now he had his friend’s suffering on his conscience and he despaired of ever completing the tests Lucifer would set. For surely the next would be even more impossible?

In that, Sam was right. Lucifer was already the laughing stock of the gods, news of his humiliation at the hands of a human already spreading. Even Castiel, recluse though he was, had asked him about it the last time they had met. So Lucifer fumed and raged and devised the perfect punishment. For not only did he want a task that would be impossible, he wanted it to hurt. 

Finally he appeared to Sam with a crystal beaker. He bade Sam to cross the three rivers to find the waters of healing. Those waters could heal any wound, cure any sickness, and the god wanted them for himself. He commanded Sam to bring the water to his temple. He also forbade Sam to seek or receive aid from any living thing else the task would be forfeit. 

Grimly Sam set out. He did not tell his brother where he was going, only offered a sad smile. He knew Dean would try to follow him, and Lucifer’s orders forbade any help. 

It was a long and arduous journey. Sam, knowing how vindictive the god could be, did not even seek out food of shelter from the strangers he met on the road, fearing that would be enough for the god to forfeit his efforts. Luckily for Sam, winter had released its grip on the land and with the fresh flush of spring, he was able to find shelter and food with relative ease. 

After many days of walking, he came upon the cliffs he needed to climb. They were towering and sheer, and he knew it was likely he would fall. But he climbed them anyway, resignation taking the place of despair. If it were not for the rope around his waist, he surely would have died. But he battled on, finally reaching the top. Sam pulled himself up, not with relief, but grim acknowledgement that he was one step closer to his goal. 

From there it was a trek cross a burning field, the earth so hot it scorched Sam’s feet. To his surprise, there was a small rocky bridge across the river of flame. That was a boon he had not expected. The heat seared his exposed skin and scorched his lungs, but he finally crossed the river, alive and mostly unharmed. 

As he left the burning river behind, he was relieved as the temperature began to drop. But soon, the soothing coolness became biting cold and Sam was forced to draw clothes tighter over his blistered skin. He grit is teeth in agony, but still trekked on. He had no thoughts to survive this journey, but the love he carried on in his heart drove him forward. If this were to be how he atoned for betraying his lover, then he would gladly pay the price. 

The river of ice was, unsurprisingly, frozen. Sam could see the waters flowing freely beneath the thick sheet of ice covering it, and he stepped carefully as he picked his way across. It was almost as wide as the horizon, and it took many hours for him to cross safely. But he made it, though he could no longer feel his feet. 

After the land of ice, came a forest. Sam was grateful that he had finally stopped shivering, the air humid and warm. But among the trees, things shifted, always just out of sight. In the distance, he could hear strange beasts calling, and the dying screams of their prey. The dangers of this land were not the land itself, but rather its inhabitants and Sam was already weary. 

Still our hero trudged on, carried by feet that screamed in protest with every step, trailing blood behind him. It would not be long now before something picked up his scent. But nothing did. 

It was not until he was standing on the riverbank, pitcher clasped in hand that he realised it had all been too easy. He scooped up the water; already expecting what he saw when he turned. 

The god’s wings were furled casually; nothing but shadows trailing him like a cloak. Castiel tipped his head curiously when the human did nothing but sink to the ground in resignation. In truth, he had expected some sort of reaction. But Sam had long stopped being surprised by the interference of gods. His entire life seemed to have become a game for their amusement. 

It wasn’t until the god gave another enigmatic head tilt and looked pointedly at the water that Sam realised what he had missed. He smiled back up at the god and nodded once. He understood. 

So Sam returned back through the cursed lands, water carefully tucked beneath his tunic. It sustained him through the ice and fire, healing his limbs, giving him renewed vigor. He came to his own familiar fields, greeted by people he’d known his whole life. He stopped by the river where Charlie lived, pouring a little of the water into her still polluted spring. The water cleared immediately, and he saw a familiar red head pop up. She smiled at him in thanks and he nodded back gravely. He still had a task to complete. 

By the time he reached them temple the water was almost gone. Only a tiny trickle remained at the bottom of the beaker. He smashed it upon the alter, the last of the water lost in the fabric of the sumptuous shrine. 

Lucifer appeared, face contorted in anger, but Sam stood his ground. The god was bound by his word as much as Sam, and Sam had fulfilled his task to the letter. He had filled the beaker and returned with water to the temple. A sense of literality worked to his advantage, something the death god had reminded him, for he had received the aid of no living thing. Sam left the temple with a smirk. Only one task remained. 

Word travelled swiftly after that. The lord of the dead himself had acted against Lucifer, taken the side of the mortal in his quest. And yet, he had done it in such a way that Lucifer could not retaliate. Tricks were considered fair play among the gods and Lucifer was fuming. It made him all the more determined that his final task would finish off the foolish human once and for all. But now he had an added motive. Now he wanted to shame his brother as well. 

This time, when Lucifer appeared, Dean stood with his brother. He had refused to let Sam out of his sight. He knew the last task would surely be the worst yet, and he was determined to at least know what was in store for his brother. 

It was Dean’s presence that Sam attributed to Lucifer’s leniency. He was no longer forbidden to seek aid with others, but the sharp smile directed at his brother left Sam in no doubt this was not intended as a kindness. And when Lucifer revealed the task, Sam knew he was right. 

He was to retrieve a soul from the underworld. Even Dean shivered at that. For while Castiel had been helpful to Sam so far, his wrath was legend: none who entered the realm of the dead ever returned. It was the natural order of the universe. But still Sam nodded in agreement. For what choice did he have?

Dean tried to follow him, as he knew he would. Sam left him unconscious by the river in Charlie’s care. Sam would face this task alone. He knew he would fail, and he knew what that failure would cost. Sam knew he was walking to his death. No need to lead his brother there as well. 

Charlie frowned at him in disapproval, but she gave Sam the instructions he needed. For she was a water nymph and her mighty sisters lived in the underworld itself, the souls of the dead ferried upon their waters, and she knew the way. She directed him to a cave several days walk to the north, and Sam resigned himself to another long journey. 

This time, Sam took what food and comfort he could. In his heart he said his farewells to his love. He knew he would not even receive the comfort of being reunited in the underworld, but he did not regret his choice. Sam wished only that he had been worthy of his love. 

Sam followed Charlie’s advice to the letter. He found the opening to the cave easily enough. Taking his first step into the gloom was like stepping into ice water. Chill seeped into his bones, and Sam knew he was now in the land of the dead. 

It was not difficult to get into the underworld. The real trick was not to become a member of its ghostly gang. Any soul may enter the after life, but the dead do not leave it. Sam was careful of the traps laid for him. He had pennies for the boatman and sweet cake for the guard dog. And yet still he almost failed. It was the wraiths; the ones who begged for help that almost got him. For they wore the faces of the loved ones he had lost, and even though he knew they weren’t real, he could not resist the urge to help them. 

Only his brother’s strong grip on his arm stopped him from diving in. Dean had been following him almost from the beginning, sent with Charlie’s blessings. For she was wiser than both mortal boys, and had done what was needed to help them succeed. It was well she had for without their brother’s presence, each man would have failed several times before they reached Castiel’s mighty throne room. 

Sam had no notion of trying to sneak a soul out. He was not so foolish. If he had any chance of succeeding, it would be with the Castiel’s help, not his ignorance. Sam bade the god polite greetings, but it was not Sam who gained the god’s attention. Keen blue eyes looked past Sam to his brother, and Sam was surprised to note that attention returned. Dean was far from polite with most deities, and his deference to this one would have been amusing to Sam in another time and place. 

In the end a bargain was struck. For there must be balance maintained in the world, and for Sam to take a soul from the underworld, another must remain, one not already dead. Dean volunteered for the task even before it was asked of him and Sam gazed between the two suspiciously. It was only Dean’s enthusiasm that allowed Sam to agree. That and the guarantee that his brother would be returned when the task was complete and Lucifer satisfied. 

Castiel summoned a shade and bade it follow Sam. Sam was relieved to note that it was not one he recognized. It seemed the god of the dead was kinder than stories told. Sam did not think he could have borne losing another loved one, and he was determined the shade he brought forth would be returned. His brother’s life depended on it. 

The shade was surprisingly docile, following where Sam led, taking no notice of the various scenes around them. Sam took his cue from the shade, peering neither left nor right, only at the path before him. In that manner they both reached the cave’s entrance. 

Here Sam followed the advice of the god and did not look back as he strode out into the light. Only when the shade, now made flesh again, stood beside him did he turn to look back. From the outside, it appeared once again as nothing more than a simple cave, and Sam was once again reminded of the dangers of trusting appearances. 

For the first time since he had struck the match, Sam felt a spark of hope. He had completed the challenges. A soul from the underworld now stood by his side, and Lucifer must be satisfied. Sam would now be free of the god’s torment, and he would be forced to aid Sam in his attempt to win Gabriel back.

But when Lucifer appeared, it was with triumphant laughter. For in completing his task and taking a soul from the underworld, Sam had disrupted the natural order and must now die to pay for it. Sam gasped in horror as the god closed his fist, choking the life from him. As he lay gasping, the air crushed from his lungs, Sam’s last breath was a prayer to Gabriel, one final apology. 

Lucifer left, thinking himself finally avenged on the hapless mortal who had truly done nothing to deserve such a fate. That might have been the end of this sad tale if it were not for the courage and stubbornness of a certain red headed naiad, whose temper and patience were enough to outmatch even a god. For unknown to Lucifer another was watching and as the god departed he stole silently to Sam’s side. 

Gabriel knelt beside the fading figure of Sam and allowed himself to revel in his beauty once more. He carded gentle fingers through Sam’s hair and leaned down to press their lips together, releasing a soft breathe that woke the air in the human’s lungs, forcing him to breathe again. 

Sam came awake with a gasp, held fast in the arms of his god, and he looked up into the golden eyes for the second time, attempting to stammer apologies. But the god only shook his head. The tale Charlie had told him, of Sam’s devotion and suffering, the pains he had endured, never wavering his faith, it was more than enough the heal the betrayal Gabriel had felt. Sam’s devotion had proven his faith, and it was more than any god could ask for. 

He ended Sam’s apologies with another kiss, drawing the human closer. Sam sunk into the embrace willingly, finally, after months of lonely wandering, finally feeling like he had come home. Gabriel drew back, laughing with joy and Sam could finally see the curve of his lips and enjoy the spark of amusement in his golden eyes and it was everything he’d ever desired. 

Together they stood hand in hand, ready to fix what needed to be fixed. A grumbling Dean was ‘rescued’, but only after he was offered an invitation to return, causing Gabriel to veritably glow with laughter, a brighter light than the underworld had seen before. Lucifer was banished as a god of bad faith, for he had broken his word and there was no greater crime among the gods. Charlie was rewarded handsomely for her aid. 

As for Sam and Gabriel, a great many things were learned that day. Sam learned that sometimes, faith could be rewarded. Gabriel learned that that sometimes love is seeing a person too clearly, all their faults and flaws and loving them anyway. Together they learned that sometimes, just sometimes, happily ever afters really do come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It's much harder than I thought to write something without dialogue. Also, my fingers slipped and now there's a weird Hades/Persphone/Destiel mashup in there too. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this blatant abuse of greek mythology. Let me know what you think and thanks for reading.
> 
> PS. I started this with Once Upon a Time, did you really expect me not to end it with Happily Ever After? Cliche trope be damned.


End file.
